


Beg Me

by LeannieBananie



Series: A Madness Made for Two [7]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Awkward Conversations, Consensual Sex, Drug Use, Established Relationship, F/M, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Guilt, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Recreational Drug Use, Sexual Content, Sexual Frustration, Swearing, Teasing, Tickling, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-18 15:17:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5933047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeannieBananie/pseuds/LeannieBananie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jo and John enjoy the slightly modern-ish joys of showers. And they have sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Please

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place shortly after _In the light of day_
> 
> Kudos and comments are welcomed and squeed over! Also, holler if you see any mistakes.

Hancock moaned in undisguised pleasure as the hot water splashed out of the pipes and over his bald head. It unkinked knots and washed away two weeks’ worth of dust and grime, leaving him clean and relaxed as it poured over his body. He rested his forehead against the cool tile wall and watched the dirty water disappear down the drain. Shit, he could get used to this. Running water was a luxury that he hadn’t had regular access to before linking up with Jo and now he didn’t know how he would go back to living without it. 

“You alive in there?” Jo called, rapping her fist on the bathroom door. He let out an unintelligible groan and heard her laugh. “Hurry up! I let you go first, because I assumed you’d finish fast.” He snorted and retorted, 

“Don’t worry sister, I’ve got enough staying power to get the job done and then some.” She was silent after his smug quip and he imagined her red-faced with embarrassment. 

“I really did not need to know that.” Her indignant, squeaky reply made him laugh and her huff. “Oh shut up.” Her footsteps signaled her retreat and with a reluctant sigh he turned off the water and grabbed a clean towel, wrapping it around his wizened body. He didn’t spend any time looking in the mirror, there was no point, but instead dressed in the clean clothes Jo had left him. 

Jo sat on the dingy couch in the living room waiting for him to finish, gnawing on her finger nail and staring unseeingly down the hall towards the bathroom. She no longer heard the sound of water, just soft rustling that meant Hancock was dressing. The door opened and she tried not to gasp, but when that failed she just tried not to stare. That failed too. Hancock’s red coat hid a lot from her gaze, the voluminous folds masked the ghoul’s sinuous form and made him look bulkier than he actual was. Jo preferred him this way; in jeans that emphasized his lean legs and a plain white undershirt that put all his tanned, warped skin on display, but mostly she like how relaxed he was. Her greedy eyes devoured him from his bald head to his bare feet, mentally tracing each divot in his skin with her tongue. 

“What are we having for dinner?” 

“Huh?” She jerked her gaze to his eyes and thankfully found his back to her as he rifled through their gear. 

“Dinner?” 

“Sugar bombs works for me.” He pulled out a box, then lifted two beers, an inhaler of jet, and a can of pork n’ beans. “I–I’m going to go shower.” She stammered, prying her eyes away from his trim ass and making her way to the bathroom. Hancock’s response was lost to her as she slammed the door and rested her forehead against the splintered surface. Squeezing her eyes shut she tried to scrub the image of his wiry frame from her mind and she definitely _did not_ imagine what he’d look like between her shapely thighs, panting and desperate for her. Groaning in frustration she set about stripping, valiantly trying to ignore her tingling skin and the needy ache that had settled between her thighs. 

One change she had yet to get used to since waking up was the lack of privacy that had become normal in the Commonwealth. For the most part it was fine; she was used to sleeping in barrack style buildings with five or more people and going to the bathroom just required a stump or shrub to hide behind. Even now, she indifferently showered behind a battered, crooked door and walls with large holes in them. However, this new practical lifestyle came with drawbacks, especially when you had a particular _itch_ to scratch. 

Jo turned on the water and stepped into it, her skin momentarily soothed by the hot water, but she couldn’t be distracted from the urge to touch herself. She peered at the door and then at the gaping holes in the wall that had yet to be covered. She couldn’t hear Hancock, but assumed he must be in the living room or kitchen. If she couldn’t hear him, it stood to reason that he wouldn’t be able to hear her right? As long as she was quiet she’d be fine. 

She cautiously slide her hand down her stomach, imagining it was Hancock’s weathered one and not her own. She hissed when he brushed along the bruise that still linger across her ribs and he urged her to be quiet in his heady, rough voice. 

“We don’t want to get caught.” She bit her bottom lip tightly and nodded, but couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped as his questing fingers brushed across her clit. He didn’t caress it directly, but trailed teasing fingers on either side of it, moving unwaveringly towards her core. Her thighs quivered as he skated across her lips, dipping one fingertip between them and into her heat, finding her slick and trembling. He thrust into her and moaned softly at the wetness he encountered before withdrawing slowly and dragging his finger up to her clit, causing her to cry out. 

“Hancock!” 

He circled the engorged bud, letting out a low, husky chuckle when she mewled and her hips squirmed under his tormenting touch. There came a suspicious noise from the hallway and she almost stopped him, but he gave her a teasing hint of the friction she craved and she moaned instead, frantically urging him on. 

“Please.” She begged, needing to feel his firm touch against her pulsing flesh. “We have to hurry.” Her entire body clenched when his fingers barely pressed into her again, tormenting the intimate nerves there. 

“Hush, love. We’ve got all the time in the world.” He replied, before casually burying two fingers into her while his other hand stroked her clit, making her see stars. She gasped hoarsely, reveling in his touch and how her skin felt on fire. She writhed against him, hips meeting his hand as he thrust in rhythm with the circling finger against her sensitive bud. With his actions contradicting his word,s he quickly pushed her to the edge until she came hard around his fingers, calling his name again. 

“Hancock!” 

Jo rode out the waves of pleasure, knees weak and thighs trembling, before slowly sliding her fingers out of her twitching flesh. She rested her forehead against cracked tile and tried to ignore the embarrassed flush that covered her skin and how she panted from her _exertions_. Her body felt sated and euphoric, but she didn’t know how she was ever going to be able to look Hancock in the eyes again. 

. 

. 

Hancock slumped to the floor in the hallway and closed his eyes tightly, replaying the impossibly erotic scene over in his head. He had been lounging on the couch, listening to the radio and waiting for Jo to finish when he had heard his name. It was muffled, a groan more than anything, but it had clearly been his name. He had heaved himself up off the couch and moved obligingly towards the bathroom, leaning against the door jamb with his fist raised when he had caught sight of her through the poorly patched wall. Just the memory of her wet, glistening skin made his body clench and he gritted his teeth, willing his erection to vanish. It was futile though; he didn’t think he had ever been this hard in his entire life. 

She had been leaning against the tile, water cascading down her body as she touched herself. From his angle Hancock had only been able to see her back, but her arm had been in front of her with her hand buried deep between her thighs. The freshly healed scar on her shoulder had rippled with each pleasure filled shudder. The sight of it made his heart clench; it was a painful reminder that he had almost lost her, but then she moaned again. It had drawn his gaze again, knowing that she had been getting herself off and that _his_ name had been the one on her lips. 

_He_ was her fantasy. 

Feeling like a creepy pervert, but completely unable to stop himself he had watched her. Watched her meet the insistent thrust of her fingers as she begged him to hurry. Watched her writhe under her touch and gasp quietly when she had come, arching her back and curling her toes into the tiled floor. 

Calling _his_ name. 

He shuddered again and helplessly adjusted his aching arousal. She would be the absolute death of him he was sure, especially after that display. Soft rustling from inside the bathroom pulled him from his reverie and he quickly roused himself. Hoping he remained undetected he rushed into the living room and sprawled unceremoniously on the couch just as the bathroom door opened. 

He tried to act casual, slowly turning to look at her but he was sure his face was giving him away. He felt flushed and turned on and the sight of her damp and rosy from her water related activities made him gape at her like the love-sick fool he was. Her brow wrinkled as she frowned at him, toweling off her hair as she approached him. 

“Are you alright? You look weird.” Hancock cleared his throat nervously and shook his head, giving her what he hoped was his trademark cocky grin. 

“I’m alright love, jet’s just kickin’ in.” He drawled, tossing her the Sugar Bombs. She caught them silently and settled carefully on the couch next to him, tucking her bare feet underneath her. “Enjoy your shower?” He asked innocently, toying with his can of pork n’ beans, picking at the battered label, completely uninterested in eating it. When he heard a surprisingly sultry chuckle he whipped his head around to stare at her in confusion. 

She was smirking and much to his shock she said, 

“I don’t know, did _you_?”

Hancock gaped and then started laughing, tossing the can aside as he crawled towards her. She was snickering helplessly and he easily tore the box out of her hands, pushing her into the couch with a growl. 

“You _brat_!” He exclaimed, grabbing her wrists and capturing them in one strong hand, his other descending mercilessly to tickle her sides –careful to avoid her bruised ribs. She yelped and squirmed feebly, trying to escape his torturous fingers, but it was useless. Her shriek nearly deafened him as her laughter quickly turned to desperate, uncontrollable high-pitched giggles. “Who knew the great and honorable vault dweller was nothing but a damned little tease.” He said archly, but she just writhed beneath him, biting her lip and laughing at him with bright, flirtatious eyes. 

“John please!” She wheezed weakly, trying to buck him off with her hips, but he pinned down with his deceptively muscular thighs and lean body. 

“Beg me.” He demanded, redoubling his efforts to make her yield. Jo twisted wildly between this thighs and each brush of her body against his reignited the lust that had settled to a low simmer since he had watched her in the shower. 

“Never!” 

Watching her playful expression morph into one of pure defiance sent another sharp spike of need through him and he involuntarily groaned. His grip loosened slightly in his distraction and she cried out both in pain and victory as her elbow landed sharply into his side and she pried herself free. Hancock grunted and let her pull herself from underneath him, unwilling to hurt her already damaged ribs. 

Jo landed on top of him, pinning him between her thighs. Her breasts heaved as she desperately sucked in air and with hooded eyes he watched them move appreciatively. He brought his worn hands up to cup her hips, fingers wrapping around to squeeze and fondle her ass. She glowered down at him, but a smile played about her lips and her eyes crinkled with laughter. 

Damn he loved her. 

“Jo, please.” He mimicked her plea from earlier, but his was breathless, not agitated. Her smirk was back and she toyed with him, drawing her lower lip between her white teeth and batting her damn eyelashes shamelessly. She leaned forward and savored his choked moan when she shamelessly pressed all those important warm bits against his erection. Lowering herself further she hovered her lips over his contorted ear and paused, letting her warm breath tease over his tingling skin. He heard her chuckle again, the sound traveling down his body and making his dick twitch against her as she said, 

“Beg me.”


	2. Gentle and Crazy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sex with some angst, guilt, and a little awkwardness. But mostly sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay folks, hope you enjoy!
> 
> Oh and this ended up being massively long, whoops! ;)
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are welcomed. And holler at me if you see any mistakes.

Hancock stared up at her, baffled and awed that this woman wanted him of all people. He was distracted from his desire by her small, teasing smile and the love that shone from her eyes. Laying there passively he cradled her hips and watched as she perched atop of him, absently fiddling with the fabric of his shirt, before cautiously sliding her fingers underneath it. 

Her fingers were cold and he instinctively shied away, but she followed him determinedly with another fleeting grin. He held his breath and twitched again when she stroked along with his ribs, seeking out every uneven ripple of his skin. Hancock was painfully aware of his physical imperfections; his skin and the glaring lack of a nose being the foremost faults, but every ghoulish thing about him was on display for her to observe. He felt the urge to pull her hands away and to cover himself, but her expression was one of intense concentration. It intrigued him, so he stayed still and let her have her way. Besides, it wasn’t that much of a hardship to have the woman he loved willingly straddle his hips and stare at him like he was a piece of candy she was about to devour. 

Jo bit her lower lip and gently raked her nails over Hancock’s stomach, _finally_ able to explore the body she had been lusting after for months. His skin had been a source of fascination for her; its warmth and texture and how unexpectedly soft it was. But he rarely exposed himself to her and she had only seen the barest hints of skin when he changed shirts, so this was overwhelming and intoxicating and _glorious_. She felt powerful, sensual, and a little giddy all at the same time. Especially when he twitched and shuddered beneath her wandering hands. She savored each quiet gasp that escaped his lips and the sharp hiss when she brushed over his nipples. Grinning wickedly she did it again and laughed when his lips twisted wryly at her mischievous touch. Touching him wasn’t enough though, she wanted to see him and taste him. 

Ignoring the nervous butterflies that fluttered in her chest –it had been over 200 years after all– she caught the hem of her shirt and raised it slowly, giving him time to deny her if he wanted. She saw the internal struggle in his dark eyes, knowing he agonized over his ghoulish appearance, but she still frowned when his bony hand wrapped around her wrist, effectively halting her progression. Indecision warred with desire on his face and she slowly brought her free hand up to caress his cheek, while saying, 

“John, I love you.” He frowned up at her, brow creased with worry and nerves. _Maybe it’s been a while for him too_ , she thought. Not 200 years, but longer than he had always insinuated. And she knew he still struggled with his feelings; both in showing and receiving affection, but also in believing someone could want his warped, twisted body for more than just sex. “I love _all_ of you.” 

Jo emphasized her words by trailing her hands down his chest and digging her fingers into his pectoral muscles, loving how his body shifted and tensed beneath her, feeling his flagging erection harden against her heat. She met his eyes and shrugged. 

“I want you.” 

Her simple admission seemed to break whatever held him back and surging up he whipped off his shirt, exposing what seemed like miles of delicious tanned skin. She uttered an appreciative moan and her hands immediately sought out his flesh, gliding over the contours of his body. He was a fucking textural delight and as she explored him, he seemed to revel in her greedy, enthusiastic touch. No longer was he motionless beneath her, instead he clutched her hips in a bruising grip and arched his body against her possessive hands, groaning when she found a particularly sensitive spot. 

Jo filed away the information for later use and brought her teeth into play, nipping sharply at his shoulder while he fumbled with her own shirt. Hearing his quick intake of breath made her chuckle, but it turned to a gasp when he suddenly wrenched the two halves of her shirt apart, buttons pinging as they struck random surfaces around the room. She hadn’t replaced her bra after showering and Hancock paused, thrilled to be brought face to face with the subject of some of his most depraved fantasies. He cupped them appreciatively, fascinated with how they overflowed his grasp as he slid his fingers over heated flesh. He made her burn with his skillful touch, his clever fingers awakening sensations she didn’t even know she possessed. He nuzzled them ardently, burying his face in the luscious swells and brushing his nose over already hardened nipples. 

Her head fell back with a strangled groan, all other thoughts forgotten as he brought his mouth to one tight bud, flicking it with a wet tongue. His raspy chuckle against her stimulated skin made her shudder. When he dropped his head and sucked her other nipple into his mouth she helplessly she pressed closer to him, arching up to firmly press her breast into his grasp. Hancock felt Jo tense and he heard her quiet cry as he rolled his tongue around the erect tip, toying with it until she was writhing in his arms. Carefully he raked his teeth across it and was rewarded with his name, the sound sliding over his skin and making him hunger for more. 

“Please John!” He couldn’t help the grin that curved across his lips as she finally begged him, even if this time she was begging for more. If he had been a better man he wouldn’t have mentioned it, but he reluctantly pulled himself away from the delectable mounds of flesh in front of him. Pressing warm lips against her pounding pulse he smirked. 

“Begging already?” He teased, flicking his tongue against her neck and digging his fingers into the rough fabric of her jeans. She growled at him and he felt the vibrations against his lip. Hancock’s laughter died on his lips as she took her revenge and ground herself roughly against his length, making him groan brokenly and cling to her this time. 

“Don’t make me hurt you.” She threatened, skimming her nails across his bare shoulders and adding a little rotation to the press of her hips. Hancock just snorted and resumed his exploration of the silken skin of her neck, trying to pretend that he wasn’t rock hard and aching to be buried inside her. That he wasn’t completely undone by her. His own skin reacted to her own roaming touch, prickling and tightening with every glancing brush of her hands. It was an exquisite form of torture that made him crave more. Fighting against an intense rush of desire that made him want to shove her back into the couch, he slide his hands down her sides towards the waistline of her pants, trembling fingers betraying his nerves. The blood pounded in his ears as he stroked the soft skin above her zipper, so caught up her clean scent and curved belly that he missed her squeak of pain. 

“John!” She yelped, flinched away from the wandering hand that brushed against her injured ribs again. He recoiled sharply and gaped at her, looking absolutely horrified that he had hurt her. 

“Oh, shit I’m sorry Jo.” He pulled his hands away and placed them on his head, shaking his head emphatically. “We shouldn’t be doing this.” Jo nearly snarled when she saw the desire dim in his eyes again. 

“I’m supposed to hurt you remember? My threat is useless now.” Her teasing didn’t ease his worried expression, instead he looked even more disgruntled with her. 

“I’m serious.” He ground out, folding his arms tightly across his chest. 

Jo glowered at him and pushed at his shoulder in frustration.

“I’m fine John.” She argued, leaning in to drop a patient kiss against his rugged jaw. “I’m a big girl, I know what I want and I want _you_. And besides,” She pulled back enough to he could see the impish smirk on her lips and the sly glint in her eyes. “I’ll be gentle.” 

Laughing at the undeniable flare of heat in his eyes she rolled her hips against his erection, tired of the slow touches and ready for the impossibly wicked feeling of skin on skin. His breath caught as she repeated the motion and he instinctively bucked against her, both of them chasing after the sharp edge of pleasure that the movement caused. 

They were both naked from the waist up, but she was unprepared for the dip of his fingers into her jeans, long fingers glancing the top of her clit. His touch was reminiscent of her fantasy, toying with the electrified nerve endings of her sex, fingers sliding almost embarrassingly easily against her slick heat. His growl of frustration at the restriction her jeans imposed made her tremble in his arms, gasping as her sheath clenched at the rough noise. 

Hancock leaned back and attacked the button, popping it free then slowly lowering the zipper, its rattle loud in a room that was quiet except for the sound of their panting. They both paused, him watching intently as she was exposed to him and her frozen by the raging passion on his face.

His eyes were glazed over, not from a chem high, but from _her_. They glittered with savage intensity that should have scared the shit out of her, but it didn’t. Instead she reveled in his possessive gaze and how his hands said _“your mine”_ every time they slid over her generous curves. 

Eager to feel more of him Jo fell back, her legs awkwardly kinked underneath her ass. She struggled to straighten them, nearly catching Hancock in the face as she did so, but he just laughed and grabbed her flailing knee, helping her untangle herself so that her legs were free. He knelt between them, poised above her. She lay back, surveying him through hooded eyes and biting her lip in anticipation as he quickly pulled her jeans off, tossing them over his shoulder. 

When he discovered that her cotton panties had come off with them, he groaned and dropped his forehead against her leg, closing his eyes tightly. 

“ _Fuck_. You’re going to kill me.” He muttered before looking at her again, his raven eyes fierce with need as he took her all in. She was tousled and rosy beneath him, sprawled lewdly across the couch. Her legs were spread to accommodate his frame between them and it gave him the perfect view of her glistening heat. Hancock moaned again, completely seduce by the picture she presented. She was a mix of sun kissed bronze and creamy white skin, sweet and spicy, everything he could ever want. That revelation made his lips part in a smug grin and he felt her thighs quiver against him. Her head was propped up against the opposite armrest, lips wet and parted, and her body tense beneath him while she waited his next move. 

Abandoning the silky skin of her calf, he skimmed his hands up her legs, tracing over the untouched skin behind her knees and eliciting a breathless gasp, before settling warmly against her lush hips. Hancock leaned over her, the material of his own jeans scratchy against her skin. Shamelessly she pressed herself against him, the rigid edge of his jean clad erection providing the perfect stimulation for her swollen, aching clit. He propped himself up and watched her take her pleasure off him, grinding herself resolutely against him with a look of tortured concentration on her face. 

She was _so_ damn close, but it still wasn’t enough though. 

“Off.” She whined, fingers forcibly tugging at the frayed belt loops of his jeans. He hastened to oblige her, shedding his jeans even faster than he had removed hers. Amused she watched them sail over her head, disappearing from her vision and her mind as he settled back between her thighs. 

Her body welcomed his. 

Jo threw her head back and arched against him when the head of his cock slid against her lips. He was teasing her _again_ , slowly gliding along her aroused skin to bump against her clit, before retreating to press against her intimate flesh. Each nudge against her erect bud sent pleasure spiking sharply through her. She sobbed and twisted against him, desperate to feel him inside of her, craving that delicious stretch when he finally settled between her thighs. 

“Stop teasing me.” She whined, her entire body drawn paper thin with want. 

Hancock only chuckled and rested himself fully against her so that she was branded by the feeling of his hot length against her throbbing core. He caged her in with his arms, the muscles rigid as he held himself just above her. Capturing her lips again he kissed her with all the passion and need raging in his soul. His sensual attack left her reeling, eyes glazed as she stared up at him. Taking advantage of her momentary surrender, he thrust into her with one swift movement, driving himself deep inside of her. 

Jo keened at the sudden, exquisite intrusion. Her muscles quaked and rippled around him as she adjusted to his girth. _200 years_ , she thought distantly, feeling a faint twinge as he rocked against her. But she would have waited another 200 if it meant having _this_ with Hancock. It was uncharitable to compare Hancock and Nate, especially now of all times, but she hadn’t know it could be like this. It had always been correct and normal and _nice_. This was uncontrollable and potent. Sordid and messy. A fire burning her up from the inside, threatening to consume them both, and what’s more is that she wanted it to. 

Hancock held himself motionless and tried to control his breathing, give both of them time to adjust. It was an impossible task considering she clutched around him tighter than anything he had ever felt before. Helpless to stop himself, he thrust his hips shallowly, eyes clenched in ecstasy. It had been longer than he cared to admit and damn it he wanted –no, needed–this to be good for her. So when she let out a wanton moan and encouraged him by tightening her legs around his hips, he relaxed and sank into the moment. And into her. 

Slowly he settled into a steady rhythm, thrusting into her and relishing every noise of pleasure that slipped past her lips. Jo matched his movements hesitantly and he loved it; loved knowing she wanted him as much as he did her. But, surrounded by her grasping sheath he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. And though it had been a while, he also knew that sometimes things weren’t as easy for women when it came to sex. 

He halted his thrusts and stopped, enjoying her disgruntled huff and squirming body as he did so, but he determined to give her pleasure even if it killed him. And that was becoming a distinct possibility. 

“Jo.” His voice was raw with desire, betraying how desperate he truly was. “Jo.” He repeated, his heated stare boring into her until she met his eyes. Her pupils were wide with lust and she shuddered against him, her skin covered in a fine sheen of sweat. Holding her gaze, he deftly reached between them and stroked her clit. She immediately responded by convulsing around his aching cock and letting out a breathy gasp. Gritting his teach he continued to press against it, caressing and petting the sensitive nub. 

Jo was held captive by the blazing heat in Hancock’s eyes; on the furious concentration that settled over his face as he circled her clit. Her entire body tingled and soared with each tormenting touch. She thrashed underneath him, panting and whimpering as he resolutely brought her to the edge. Embracing the tumultuous rush of feelings that crashed against her, she came with a hoarse cry. Hancock’s throaty groan followed hers, as he thrusted into her again, his movements sporadic and wild as he quickly followed her climax with his own. 

He collapsed clumsily on top of her in a pile of boney limbs and sweaty skin. Shuddering one final time he drew her to him and kissed her temple, his breath coming in hot, sticky puffs against her neck. He was heavy and made it hard to breath, but she settled as comfortably as she could and traced her fingertips across his bare shoulders. His skin prickled against her touch and he fidgeted slightly when she glanced over a ticklish spot. 

“Stop it.” He mumbled, burying his face into her collar bone. She snorted and pinched his side, attempting to get him to move. A blush was quickly working its way across her chest as she tried to wiggle out from under him. 

“Let me up then.” She complained, feeling awkward in the aftermath of what had been one of the most passionate encounters of her life. The emotions that battered against her was overwhelming and her breath caught in her chest. Because crying would make everything better, she thought caustically. Slipping out of his grasp she clutched the ruined tatters of her shirt across her chest and sidled towards the bathroom, painfully aware of the wet mess sliding down her thighs. Tossing a vague explanation over her shoulder she scrambled away and hastily closed the door just as the tears began to fall. 

. 

. 

Cleaning herself up with a spare towel she furiously dabbed at her tears and reprimanded the confused face that stared back at her in the mirror. 

“Getting a fucking grip.” She hissed, splashing some water against her flushed skin, trying to shake the ghost of Nate that hovered at the edges of her heart. 

Their marriage hadn’t been perfect, even in the beginning and less so towards the end, but in her own convoluted way she had loved him. Or loved the pieces of him that had been in their son. Now all she bore was a faint affection for his memory, but being so intimate with Hancock had muddled everything. Part of her felt mind-numbingly guilty, as if she had betrayed a man who still lived, not one who was long cold. That guilt warred with the joy and contentment she felt after having been with Hancock. It had felt real, perfect even, like a missing piece had been snapped in place by their intimacy. John was who she wanted, not the long-faded memory of a man who had never been quite right for her. 

Hancock rested silently outside the bathroom, listening to Jo sniffle as she tended to herself. He didn’t think this wasn’t about what had transpired between them, or at least he hoped it wasn’t. The last thing he wanted was for her to regret what had happened. He was trying to give her the space she seemed to need, but hearing her angry mutter and another hiccupping cry made him knock. 

“Hey love.” He slipped in and when she turned to look at him he immediately pulled her into his arms. She looked devastated; her eyes bright with unshed tears and her face red and blotchy. 

“I’m sorry!” She wailed, wrapping strong arms around his waist. He hummed softly and continued to stroke his hands up and down her back, easing her through the fresh wave of tears. 

“You’re good.” He soothed, hiding a tender smile in the wild mess of her hair. “I’ve got you love.” 

“I’m sorry.” Sniffling she pulled back and stared up at him with glassy eyes. “You must think I’m fucking crazy.” He snorted and wiped at a few stray tears on her cheek, enchanted even by her raw, runny nose and red-rimmed eyes. 

“I already knew you were.” 

“Ass.” His teasing drew out a small smile, just the tiniest curve of her lip, but it was enough. Her curvaceous body went limp against him as she relaxed with a shaky sigh. 

“So, want to tell me what’s up?” He urged, his hands never stopping their path from the rounded curve of her ass to her shoulder blades, all of it covered by the silkiest skin he had ever touched. 

“Do I have to?” Jo felt him shrug and listened to the rumble of his words with her ear pressed against his bare chest. He was warm and smelled like sweat and sex. It was more comforting that it should have been, given her current emotional state. 

“Not right now if you don’t want to, but if you expect this to work then eventually, yes. Honesty and shit.” She sighed again and burrowed deeper into his embrace, hesitantly testing the words on her tongue before saying in a rush, 

“I was thinking about Nate.” She expected tension or some sort of reaction from Hancock, but he just shrugged nonchalantly again. 

“I figured as much.” She leaned back and raised an eyebrow at him, disbelief clear on her face. 

“That’s it? I’m thinking about another man after having sex with you and that’s all you say?” Hancock met her glare with a cocked brow, eyes narrowed in exasperation because of her wild mood swing. Grasping her upper arms he slid his thumbs over the skin and tried to set her already tortured mind at ease. 

“Don’t snap at me like that.” He admonished, a little stung by the sharp cut of her words. “I might not understand everything you’ve been through, but I know it hasn’t been easy. He was your husband and I’m assuming I’m the first man –ghoul–”

“Man.” She interjected quickly. He acknowledged her point with a nod before continuing. 

“I’m the first man you’ve been with since him. That’s bound to leave you twisted up inside. I know you love me and your love for him or Shaun won’t change that. So take your time to work through whatever shit you have to and know I’m here for you when you’re ready. I’m not going anywhere.” Hancock paused, distracted by the slow grin that had spread over her face. 

“Can we go eat some fucking dinner now?” He grumbled as his stomach let out disgruntled gurgle of hunger. Caught off guard, he grunted in surprise when she suddenly pounced on him again, arms squeezing him tight and her head bouncing painfully off his chin. 

Jo wasn’t quite ready to offload all her feelings on him, but there was an enormous amount of comfort in the fact that she had him to rely on and that he loved her. Waking up alone had been terrifying, but she wasn’t alone anymore and if she had her way, she never would be again. Hancock was there for her. Giving him another smile, she pressed a soft kiss on his cheek and nodded, quietly sashaying past him. 

Watching the heart-shaped curve of her ass peek out from underneath her shirt as she swayed past, Hancock found himself smiling and he had no fucking clue as to why. This was not what he would consider “normal” post sex behavior, but oddly enough it was working for him. Glancing at her retreating figure again he knew he would happily live this brand of normal for the rest of his life, crazy and all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts on Hancock's awareness of female orgasms? Because if we're going to have real honest, awkward conversation about it, sometimes we have to work for them. Anyway. . . Ahem.


End file.
